McKettrick's Choice - Linda Lael Miller [105]
“Might never come to that,” the Captain said quietly. “Meantime, they’ll both be safe. Heddy’ll see to that.”
“She’s a character, Miss Heddy is,” John reflected. “How’d you come to know her, Holt?”
Holt crouched, tossed the dregs of his coffee onto the fire and listened to the sizzle. “Heddy and me, we go way back,” he said, in his own good time. “She ran a…business in Abilene.”
The Captain arched one busy eyebrow. “Would this be the kind of ‘business’ I’m guessing it was?”
“Probably,” Holt said.
“I’ll be damned.” The Captain grinned. “I wouldn’t have figured you for the type to be taken with an older woman.”
“I said she ran the place,” Holt replied. “There’s a big difference between that and looking after customers.”
John muttered something—no telling what.
Just then, Heddy herself trundled around the corner.
“Come on in and get your supper,” she ordered. “Bad enough you’d rather sleep on the ground than in my good beds. If you think you’re going to turn your noses up at my cookin’, too, you’re sadly mistaken!”
Holt laughed and got to his feet. John and the Captain followed suit.
“I would never turn down one of your fine suppers, Miss Heddy,” John said.
Heddy beamed at him, blushed like a schoolgirl and even patted her hair.
Holt and the Captain exchanged glances.
The Captain shrugged. “You just never know,” he said, and grinned to himself.
MELINA RAN a reverent hand over the bolt of blue-and-white checked gingham when Lorelei pushed back the brown wrapping paper to reveal it.
They were in Heddy’s modest front parlor, with the lamps lit, and the sounds and scents of supper preparation drifted in through the open doorway.
“It’s very fine,” Melina said, and swallowed. When she looked at Lorelei, her eyes were wide with yearning. “I guess Mary will sew this right up into a dress as soon as she lays eyes on it,” she added.
Lorelei’s heart pinched. She’d almost purchased a length of crimson taffeta for Melina—it would have suited her so well—but she knew her friend’s pride would make it hard to accept such a gift. “Yes,” she agreed. “I suppose she will.”
Tillie stepped over the threshold, dandling Pearl on one slender hip. “Miss Heddy says come to supper before it gets cold,” she said.
Lorelei was starved—she hadn’t eaten since breakfast, having been out most of the day—but she knew Holt was already in the kitchen. She’d sensed his presence in the house even before she heard his voice.
“We’re coming, Tillie,” Melina answered. “Hold your horses.”
“I’ll just put this away,” Lorelei said, refolding the brown paper. It was her own business what she bought, but if Holt saw that gingham, he was bound to say there was no room in the wagon for a bolt of cloth, and she didn’t want to butt heads with him.
Melina nodded, and Lorelei headed for the front staircase.
Upstairs, in the corridor, she hurried along with her head down—and collided hard with Rafe. Mary Davis’s blue-and-white checked gingham toppled to the floor.
Rafe chuckled and put out a hand to stop her when she would have bent to retrieve the package. “I’ll get it,” he said.
Lorelei’s heart was pounding. She pressed a hand to her chest and concentrated on catching her breath.
Rafe straightened, holding the parcel and grinning. “Thought I was Holt for a moment, did you?”
There was no sense in prevaricating. “Yes,” she admitted.
“He doesn’t bite, you know,” Rafe teased. “Not real often, anyhow.”
She smiled, perhaps a little wanly, and took the bolt of gingham back. The wrapping crackled. “I’m not so sure of that,” she said. “I bought the comb you wanted for your wife, and the doll for your little girl, too. It’s cloth, with button eyes and yarn hair.”
A distant expression drifted into Rafe’s blue eyes. “I sure do miss them,” he said. “Especially around this time of day, when it’s time to have supper. Emmeline’s always got a lot to tell me when I come in off the range.”
Lorelei wanted